The Green Place
by ladyjanegray2106
Summary: repost of story from 2008  What is Kim & Shego's mysterious past? Do they have a future?


**The Green Place**

By Lady Jane Gray

Copyright notice: This story is the intellectual property of the author, and may not be reproduced without permission. The characters Bonnie, Kim, Drakken, Monique, Ron, Shego, Wade are copyrighted by Disney; this story is not for profit and it not intended to infringe on their rights.

I_t's a party scene and I just got loose_

_It's my devil's luck to be introduced_

_To one like you who takes the shape that unbinds me._

_Ferron: Our Purpose Here_

_omniscient author tells the story_

This is the story of how Kim and Shego fell in love.

Some say it began when the two met, but then, who knows what love is? Is it a feeling? A destiny? A truth, buried, waiting to be discovered?

And how do you say when love starts? When you walk, together, and hold her hand? Or when your whole body shudders, the first time she holds you? Maybe it begins with a reluctant ache, knowing that you can't live away from her?

Let's see.

The Middleton '07 Reunion was in full swing, and Ron Stoppable, standing at the buffet, scans the ballroom for old friends. Acquaintances, even enemies: fact is, Ron was nervous as a jumping bean, randomly greeting faces in the crowd:

"Hey! Bonnie! Long time no see. How ya doin'?"

"Nice purse, Stoppable. Now get lost."

"Ha-ha, same old Bonnie." But she'd moved on, stage-wards.

"Brick, my man! Long time no see! How's your dad's car dealership? You salesman of the year?"

Brick, briefly puzzled, glances over. "Hey, I know you. You're that Ronable guy. Naw, not sales. I do mostly detailing. You know, some of them cars are pretty nice. What's with the purse? Say, you seen Bonnie?"

Ron points Brick in the direction of Bonnie, who was on stage, arranging. Flowers, chairs, and people.

"Ron, you're going to drive me crazy. Stop it."

"Monique! Long time no ... Oh. Sorry; I'm practicing. If Kim shows, I need to keep my cool. She's probably all changed, being over there in France. I won't even know her."

"Oh, you'll know me."

"Aaaah! KP! I don't know you!" Ron jumped.

Monique had seen Kim enter, striding towards them, dressed ... like no Kim she'd ever known. Skirted suit, deep brown blouse, scarf in browns and oranges to match, half inch heels, and her walk said she owned it. Four years in Paris had changed Kim, but Monique wasn't about to go all Ron about it.

"Girlfriend! Let me look at you. Nice. And that blouse?"

"Soie chocolat – so off the rack."

"Uh-huh. At Bon Marche, maybe. Girl, you can't fool me."

"Good eyes, Monique."

"You think? You are talking to - The - Head - Buyer - for - Club Banana! Come on, girl: give me a hug!"

Kim smiles and it loosens her. "Mmmm, here you go. Monique, that is so great! And it fits you so well. Congratulations."

Now Kim turns, looks. "Ron, nice to see you, again." She offers a quick peck on the cheek, looks at him. "Nice man-bag. Classy."

"Correction, Kim: not a man bag. Rufus ..."

A tiny head pops out of the bag. A "Ta-Da" in those squeaky rodent tones Kim knew so well.

"You want to introduce the family, my man?"

"Uh-huh; uh-huh."

Two tinier heads pop up from under the flap. "This is Raffaella, and this is Ruya. Girls: Kim."

"Rufus, you old dog!"

"Naked mole rat, Kim. I can't believe you don't remember! I don't know you, Kim."

"Ron, the twins are so cute. Rufus, you are one lucky ... ahhh ... guy. Ron: you didn't email me with the news?"

"Paris, Kim. You were in Paris."

Kim sighs; she really was home. Explaining the 'world' part of "www" was both pointless and - and a reminder.

She looks around: old friends, old faces. Bonnie, still center of everything, even if, five years on, that meant positioning flowers for a high school reunion. Shego-

"Ron!" Grabbing him by the arm, Kim turns him towards the stage. "Who does that look like, to you?"

"Hey! Shego!" Ron waves, gets out "Long time no..." before Kim and Monique restrain him. When it was safe to release him,

"KP! She's not green. Maybe it's Shego's evil twin." Ron gives it a thought. "Her nice twin?"

Meanwhile, the not-evil maybe-not-Shego notices the trio, walks with a menacing deliberation towards them.

Black-haired woman, red-brown loose linen slacks, knee-length jacket concealing rather than enhancing her figure. A lined face, with too much make-up.

And then the woman stood before them. Kim looks closely: she had Shego's eyes, but her skin was lightly tanned and not green; not green in the least.

"Hello, Ron. Good to see you. Nice bag; very European." She offers her hand, then turns to Monique, offers her hand again. "We've never met. My name is Shego; my company is providing security tonight. I hope you're enjoying the evening."

The woman who was Shego turns again, looks directly at Kim, and says, "It's good to see you again, Doctor Possible. I'd heard Madame Sarkozy's Concorde landed at JFK this afternoon. Nothing to do with you, of course."

"Oh. No big. And, I don't get the doctorate until spring, anyway."

Shego gives Kim an up-and-down look: "Funny – you look all graduated to me. So" Shego begins, but Kim's phone rings. "Excuse me; I have to take this." Kim turns away from the group, but the one-sided conversation is audible.

"Oui, c'est moi.

"Ah, non.

"Oui."

Pause.

"Si vous plait."

A lengthly pause.

"Merci.

Again a pause

"Non, non, non. C'est facile. Oui." She turns back, and Ron, looking aghast, jumps in with:

"Kim! Is that an – iPhone? What would Wade say? I don't know you anymore."

"Sure you do, Ron. Went to school together?"

"Yeah! Before you ran off to France. For no reason."

"Right. And you dropped out of school, Ron." Monique's entry into the fray.

With things heating up, Shego decides the time is opportune for a small venture: "Do you even know who Wade is?" Kim gets off a lighting-fast "No", along with a truly formidable 'drop it now' look. But the diversion leaves Ron unaffected:

"Withdrew, not dropped out. To pursue a business opportunity. My card, Kim."

She takes the card, and Shego looks over her shoulder while Monique covers her face.

"We Suck? Ron, is this a joke?"

"Vacuuming, Kim. An important yet growing service industry. I..."

And then it all stops, as Kim points to the stage. Wearing chinos, a pink golf-shirt and a pair of soft sueded shoes, a balding Doctor Drakken walks in.

It went without saying that Bonnie did the introduction. "Most of you know Dr. Drakken from the work he did to earn the Nobel Prize. Few people know he's one of our country's leading motivational psychologists and business gurus. We're very proud to have tonight Dr. Drakken, who will speak on 'Globalization, a Flat World, and Your Bottom Line."

Bonnie had the perfect buzzwords to whip up attention; the reunion crowd drifts stage-wards, dripping cold pizza, warm beer and sludgy cheesy nachos. Even Ron, open-mouthed, was caught up, drifted along.

All of which left Shego, clearly enjoying the entire show; Monique, wondering how the reunion had fallen apart so badly, and one angry Kim, glaring at Shego. She'd thought she'd changed. She'd been conned, again.

"I can't believe you're shilling for Drakken. After everything."

Shego backs away, but then tosses her hair, looks at Kim: "I don't have to justify myself to you." She pauses, adds a "Kimmie," strides off.

Monique, coming to the rescue, puts an arm around Kim. "That was weird."

"Yeah. For a moment, I thought she'd been brain switched. Maybe even become human. Did that ever not last."

"I meant Drakken. Bright. Shiny. What is it about guys and buzzwords, Kim?"

"What is it about this food? Monique – who did the food committee? Is that mystery meat on the tacos?"

"What say we go out later? Meanwhile – gossip! Is that really Shego? Did you see what she was wearing? Must have been ten thousand dollars eskandar, easy. And all that make-up? Major old lady look. Hey! Did you really meet Mick Jagger on that yacht off Malta?"

The evening rolls on: gossip about clothes, the Rockweiler Realty bankruptcy; Monique's boyfriends. Random guys drift up to the table, hit on Kim, every single one of them boozy and married. Five years, and her luck hadn't changed.

_Kim's point of view_

_kigo: corn moon_

Kim steps outside for air, just as the lecture breaks up. She heard dance music starting, catches a line 'from Boulder to Birmingham, if I could see your face.' Country-Western, but it kind of fit the reunion theme.

The buzz of crickets, the smell of new mown grass; night just getting chilly. She stands, looking up at the sky: stars, so many stars. She'd gotten used to Paris, all smog and city noise and dull skies. Home was almost alien.

Steps, behind her. "Noisy in there. Sorry about the way that all went down."

Shego. Kim was no way ready to let go their past. "So why _are_ you here?"

"Same reason as you, I bet."

Kim shrugs her shoulders.

"All right. I'll give. As a security company, we're very interested in Drakken. Our investors have a strong interest in maintaining the current geopolitical balance. It's obvious he's running a new scam; that's not our concern. But if he threatens the equilibrium, he's gone."

She didn't believe it was that simple; she didn't believe Shego and she wasn't going to trust her again. But . . . "So you people bid on the bodyguard contract, get to watch him at the same time?"

"Don't tell me DGSE didn't send you here for the same reason, Doc."

It was probably the 'Doc' that set her off. Maybe the 'Kimmie' or, then, maybe too much fashion gossip. Jet lag, guys hitting on her, or seeing Ron again. Whatever it was, she'd had it, and she'd had it with Shego. Angry, tired and lost, Kim confronted her:

"Will you stop that. Why can't you just call me by my name? It's Kim. My friends call me Kim."

She tried to make out Shego's expression, but partly because it was dark and partly through tears, and mostly because Shego hid her face, Shego was blank. There was a long pause, and a quiet response:

"Thank you. Kim: I like that; it's a good name. A strong name."

Awkward pause, here.

"Upset the geopolitical equilibrium. We used to call it 'ruling the world'." What words were coming out of her mouth? What mad nostalgia was this?

But Shego smiled at her, looking . . . younger. Relaxed: Shego seemed almost to relax, and said, "Yeah. Here's me, security consultant. How likely is that? But I never thought I'd come back to this place."

"Ah, so... umm … how long you staying?"

"Drakken's got a lunch for new suckers; I hand him off at one, then I'm gone."

"So got any time for coffee, tomorrow morning?"

"How 'bout we work out together? There's this place, forty-fifth and Middle Street. We could meet maybe seven?"

"Forty-fifth? Isn't that a malt shop?"

"Used to be; now it's a dojo. I don't know which is scarier."

OK, now Shego had forced a smile from her; knew it too. She shouldn't be letting down her guard, shouldn't be doing this.

What exactly was she doing? "Make it eight? Jet lag."

"This is a workout, not morning tea, Possible."

"Right. So, eight, then tea?"

"Eight, we work out, then chi sao, and you are toast, Possible." Shego turned to re-enter the ballroom, stopped, looked directly into Kim's eyes.

Said "Kim" and was gone.

With Shego out of the way, Kim returned to the stars. She hadn't noticed: just a few days away from full moon. Corn moon, they used to say; Middleton schools harking back to bread-basket farming roots. It'd be corn moon, in a couple of days.

_kigo: sun_

Morning found her tired, jet-lagged, hung over from too many 'ritas with Monique. The day itself was gorgeous; thick clouds, the sun throwing pink on them. They'd burn off by afternoon, but the morning breeze was cool.

She got to forty-fifth at a sharp 7:30. There it was – 'Joe's Dojo' flanked by 'Joe's Cup of Joe.' She missed the malt shop. Momentarily, even missed Paris.

Of course Shego was already there, partway through a yoga routine. Designer clothes replaced by cotton tie-belt slacks and a y-neck white top, Shego looked to be in perfect condition, and with the make-up scrubbed off, her complexion was – well, soft and glowing. Shego caught her looking, and with a peremptory shake of her head, motioned Kim to get beside her and start her routine.

Thus began ninety minutes of hell.

She got through the remaining yoga merely breathing hard. Half-hour into the tai chi, Shego picked up the pace and, by white crane lifts wings, Kim was in trouble: sloppy, off balance.

Then Shego, looking as calm, stern, and uncompromising as her old sensei, invited her to begin 'pushing hands'.

Shego's look and attitude bothered her, and she lost her center within a few seconds, was on her back. She closed her eyes, trying to focus, got up, and kept her balance almost a minute, before looking up and seeing Shego's hand reaching down to her. She got up on her own; Shego looked critically at her:

"Thanks for the work out. I'll put this on my expense account; always need to keep in shape. Go shower down and I'll meet you."

She was just finishing when Shego got out of the shower, entered the locker room wrapped in a towel. Shego looked away, said "Nice lingerie. The green goes with your eyes."

Major bad. She bought time by slowly pulling on her jeans, buttoning a sleeveless white blouse. She'd picked it to show off her muscles, but a faint green showed through, and anyway, after seeing Shego's form, she felt flabby. Bad.

"Ah, well, you know: a Parisian girl spends more on her lingerie than …."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. And she knows how to find that one item that pulls together her whole look. You do the look very well, by the way."

"My roomies said if I didn't get it down, they'd make me sleep in the street."

"I believe it; Parisian women are hard core."

"So." Kim wasn't sure she was ready to go there, but…. "Where'd you pick it up?"

Shego looked at her, said 'UNICEF', in a tone that closed down the subject and a lot else. "Time to rehydrate. I'll finish up; spirits and ancestors save us, let's do Joe's."

When Shego entered the coffeehouse, she was back into corporate camouflage, complete with bad makeup.

"I think I get it. You put on a look that says you're just getting old, and you're just too rich, and you are just not a threat. Which means … you're doing field work."

"Caught me: good. Which is why I stay in shape. It could be my people or my clients. Even me."

The waitress stopped by; she ordered french roast with frothed cream. Shego tried for white tea and settled for decaf Earl Grey and a large glass of water. They sat companionably for a few moments, before Shego sighed deeply, stared at her.

"All right, Possible. I just don't get it."

Kim got in a quick: "I see that. The whole 'Kim' thing is going to be a long road, isn't it?"

Shego laughed, looked at her tea.

"OK, Shego. I'm way out of shape. Sorry I wasn't much of a partner."

"You're better than all my trainees and some of my field agents. You know what your core is; you understand balance. You're just out of practice."

Shego was being gentle with her. It was odd; irritating: she took care of herself.

"I had a long night."

"I did too. Some reason. That's what the discipline is for." After a bit of consultation with her tea, she continued.

"So what is it? You used to go one on one with me, in a match. What happened?"

"Consulting for DGSE is more spreadsheets than street fights. I track a lot of corporate crime; globalization's 'disrupted more equilibrium' than ten Drakkens ever will."

"You probably have most of my investors on your watch list."

"You do security for corporate criminals?"

"Not my thing. But you know, Kim, our world is falling apart. The haves are having more. It won't last; history says it never lasts. So my investors saw a market: boutique security services for the moderately wealthy. And those people – even the Cheney's and Rumsfelds, the real bottom feeders: even they don't deserve their granddaughter's finger wrapped in a ransom note. By the way – I get to screen clients. No bottom feeders; let 'em get their own security. And it won't be as good as mine." Shego smiled.

"And that's what's happening: kidnapping?" Shego's story was hard to believe.

"Not in your country; not yet. But, muggings, floods, food riots, that happens everywhere."

Kim shook her head: attack, defend. Took a large gulp of coffee; she was so tired. Said: "So you work for your investors and I work for the French government. We're not much different."

Shego reacted by pushing away her tea, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest.

"I pay better."

"Wow. Look at you: corporate executive for recruiting."

"CFO: chief fighting officer."

Once again, she found herself laughing. This was no brain-switched Miss Go; she had sharp edges, she was tough, maybe tougher than ever. But oddly gentle, when Kim expected sarcastic, or nasty. It was odd. Like in pushing hands; Shego had some kind of inner balance, that let her move, reach, but maintain her center. For the first time, Shego had something Kim envied.

Shego picked up the thread.

"Yeah, we do recruit. It's the best part of the job, for me. I get to bring in young kids, eighteen, twenty; most of 'em already have some martial arts. We polish their skills; they get a decent job and they can be proud of what they do." She gave Kim a wry smile. "I'm no Kim Possible; I don't save the world. But my people are good people, and when the collapse comes, they'll take care of their families. Kim, stop giving me that big-eyed look."

"Oops! But you do make it sound nice."

"Back on track, Possible. You have a gift for martial arts, but you just let it slide. Like I said, I don't get it."

"Because what did that ever bring me? I mean, like Monique is a corporate manager. Ron has his own company. Even Rufus has a family. You with your Nobel Peace Prize and your UNICEF ambassadorship and now your security company somewhere I don't even know where. So what did that gift exactly bring me?"

"Uhhh . . . I noticed last night, you have some ferociously loyal friends. When Stoppable got on your case about Paris, Monique jumped right in on your side. Oh, hell: I forgot to tell you: Stoppable is one of Drakken's lunch guests. If I were you, I'd be worried."

"No! What's Drakken up to?"

"We don't know, yet. It's some sort of business-guru scam, but the odd thing, he's not skimming big cash from it. Maybe he's building a loyal base. But he'll slip up, sooner instead of later. The trick is to not get hurt in the collapse.

"So what did it bring you? I don't know. Maybe some kind of inner strength from being at peace with your life?" Shego stood, put a twenty under her saucer – "I gotta go prep. I'm, kinda, glad we met like this. I mean, to really talk. I wasn't trying – it's no secret about where. I got a card" she flipped it on the table "and if you wanted you could see the place. I mean, I'd show you around."

With that, Shego rushed herself out of the javashop, leaving Kim with a card and a semi-large mountain of mixed emotions. OK, she'd deal.

Checking out the card: a graphic on the left, large circle, unclosed, like a Japanese brushstroke circle, color grading from deep black to forest green. To the right – balanced - two lines of print: "Securite Global" and underneath that, "Vancouver, BC."

_kigo: morning chill_

Kim hopped a military cargo jet to Frankfurt, took a commuter train ('einfach, bitte') to Heidelberg, arrived at Gare de l'Est around five in the morning. The morning offered a chill, Paris getting ready for a long, cold autumn. Where was that Concorde when you needed it? Her roomies, Julie and Sandrine, were still asleep in the loft; Kim just threw herself on the downstairs couch, not bothering to get out sheets and pillows. The only bathroom was downstairs, and the sound of the shower, two women prepping for work, woke her, but she kept her eyes closed until Julie tousled her hair, whispered "Bonjour, Kim" in her ear. Julie's little alarm clock. Weird, like most of her life, but gentle, anyway.

Another day. She had two hours before reporting at DGSE; time to get her life back: she'd run this morning.

A simple life. Housing and food ate most of her fellowship; and miRNA was the most challenging work she'd ever had to do, taking up most of her time, energy and mind. She made it to December.

She made it to December, and one morning she was putting up a lentil stew that'd simmered all night (c'est facile: garlic, carrots, potatoes, butter and red wine); saw a note from Julie, asking if she and Sandrine could have the apartment that evening. She lost her workout to the long metro ride out to DGSE. She'd been tracking money from a French company, contracted to oversee mining operations on an Australian protectorate island. As it happened, the indigenous people hadn't wanted their island strip-mined, though by now it was too late for them. She couldn't get evidence showing transfer of funds to Australian officials, but she did find substantial payments to a private security firm, who'd used strong arm tactics to keep the indigenes from blocking bulldozers. She was in a panic until she found it wasn't Securite Global, and after that she wasn't fit to work.

Lab work went about as well. Her particular miRNA fragment, which the lab workers had labeled 'microKim', was showing no apparent biological activity, despite many lengthly series of assays. The possibility that she'd just spent two years studying nothing loomed large.

At six, she headed to le Louvre. Julie was usually considerate; Wednesdays, the museum was open late and even better, was free. If she waited 'till almost closing, the Algerian place would give her double helpings of tagine. Also she never got enough time there, always returning to the Nike of Samothrace, dominating her hall, ready to swoop down and scoop her up. Her second favorite was the Cour Marly: on winter Wednesday nights she pretty much had it alone, with outsized marbles and bronzes. It was a great place to sit and think, or sometimes not think. Probably the only place in Paris she got any quiet. If only it translated to peace.

microKim obviously was going nowhere by itself. Just like big Kim, she thought. Glumly. She didn't want to admit it had no biologic role; she didn't believe that. Alright: the most basic alternative would be a co-operative network. What? The outsized sculptures looked back at her; they looked like developmental abnormalities themselves.

She sighed, took the Metro back to Pasteur; set up a sequence of experiments. And called Wade.

_kigo: winter rains_

So: it was raining in Vancouver. Kim talked to the concierge, who suggested a walk on the seawall, to a collection of totem poles.

So: it was cold in Vancouver. But the air was right off the ocean, smelled clean and fresh, anti-Paris. Between the rain and the cold she felt – energized; decided to replace the walk with a fast run. Passing rows of million-dollar yachts, she found she was smiling at the other joggers. When she finally got to the poles, they were surrounded by a mixed busload of Japanese and Australian tourists. The totem poles themselves were surreal; one topped with a moon-face, presented on a flat board. But she'd spent four years absorbing classical European art, and was unprepared for the bright polychromatic poles, the alien stylization.

She was just thinking how this odd world might fit in, when she picked out a voice from the crowd, turned to see Shego, in running gear, holding a styrofoam cup. Kim made a show of looking at her watch, "Thirty six minutes. Wow."

Shego handed her the cup. "Hey. Can't a girl buy you a drink?"

"Mmmm, hot coffee. Just what I needed."

But it wasn't coffee at all, it was hot chocolate except kind of caramel, topped with whipped cream. It went down wonderfully easy, and warmed her from inside.

"No coffee?"

"People drink too much caffeine. Give it, Possible."

Shego finished the drink, looked at her. "It's twenty-two klicks around the wall. You up for it?" Shego was talking challenge, and she didn't much care for being tested, again. But then Shego also had this silly grin on her face. She smiled back.

"I am so up. Start us out. If you can."

The path ran along an inlet; their side all park; the opposite side covered in mist and fog. Whatever pace Shego set, Kim pushed faster. They passed under an enormous suspension bridge, way high up; the park-like scene shifted and Shego put a hand on her shoulder. Instantly, not thinking, Kim put her forward momentum into a flip and Shego sat, on the asphalt, looking up at her.

"Ouch. I guess I deserved that. Here." She reached a hand up. Kim mostly expected to wind up sitting down, hard, next to her, but Shego simply took the hand, stood, placed her left palm against Kim's back, and pointed across the inlet with her right. "Mountains: stone people."

Mountains; right. The mist was now just wisps, covering a forest, leading up, high, to glorious mountains, standing out from clouds swirling about their summits. The sight was so unexpected she was actually stunned and when she looked up, she had to step back, but Shego steadied her, and the sight was so vast, she actually didn't resent the extra balance. Shego was talking.

"First nations call them stone people; they're the preservers of wisdom, and the foundation underlying everything. Aren't they something?" Shego was as awed as she.

They ran on, turned a bend on the path and Kim was hit with a blast of wind. She thought Vancouver was chilly, but this was ice-turned-wind. Shego smiled "Open water. Now there's nothing between you and the Sea of Japan."

It was true; waves that had been gentle became rough, splashy. Shego stopped her again, shouted against the wind "Check it out."

No more park. On the right, rocks and the open bay; on the left, rock cliff, water splashing down in rivulets, about twenty or thirty feet, then tall dark green trees another thirty feet.

"Coastal rainforest."

"Let me guess: you like this too."

"It's magic. It feels mysterious like it was here since the beginning. Right around here I always have this urge to eat salmon. Big slices of sushi, raw. I have this image about the first peoples, Coastal Salish, who lived here. They'd be out on the water, maybe fishing, in canoes, out in this weather, and they'd come home to a fire and food. Home. Let's stop for something warm after this, OK?"

Around then, the competition fell apart. Kim would try to run, but every few minutes Shego would grab her hand, point out something new. A baby seal lying on the rocks; a seagull, its mouth stuffed with a starfish; big pieces of seaweed, torn up and cast on the shore. A bird with tiny black body and a long red beak, that Shego called a crabcatcher. Kim had her doubts; it looked better suited to small bugs. She kept quiet.

Shego was like a kid, who'd saved up all her favorite stuff to show a special aunt. Or was like something else, and Kim wasn't ready to hope what that was. So sometimes Kim walked slowly along the beach, close to her so she could hear over the crash of waves; sometimes they stopped to look out over mist and mountain and sea.

They came on a large stone figure, shaped like a person; Kim remembered it from the Olympics. "Stone people?"

"No. It's an Inuksuk; it's not a natural formation."

"Uh-huh."

"The Inuit used piles of stone like this for all kinds of things. This one is supposed to guide you on your way. Pathfinder kind of thing."

"How's it work?"

"You look through that slit in the torso. Whatcha see?"

"The tip of that promontory, over there."

"Point Grey. Ahh… really expensive homes. Great beaches. University. Really expensive homes."

"What if I look the other way, like I'm coming from the water?"

"Never tried that." Shego looked through the slit. "In a straight line, from here: gay area. Hospital. Banks, trading companies. Really expensive condos. Uh, my place. Coal Harbour."

Kim thought for a few minutes. "I didn't know I was getting the city tour. I thought you were going to show me your company hq, things like that." Shego just looked at her, opened her arms to the ocean, threw her head back, and laughed.

Kim kept being thrown off balance. Shego – this new person next to her – seemed happy. It was odd, disturbing, and for the second time, she was jealous. She wanted to be alone, walk slowly along the shore, listen to the waves, gulls. Which again was odd, because this was Shego's city, and here she wanted to be part of it.

"Kim?" Shego, interrupting her thoughts, gesturing with her head, towards a dock. "There's a ferry. Wanna go across, get something warm?"

"Those ferries are too cute."

"Yeah. But it's OK, if you keep your cute down to like once a month. C'mon; it'll be fun."

It was fun, the little boat chugging through the waves, bobbing about but not too much. They docked at an island in the middle of the inlet, some enormous urban redevelopment, full of arts and crafts, cute (yes) stores, all of which Shego avoided, taking her instead to a beat up old warehouse with an active food market. Shego dragged her past a donut shop, three places serving coffee, let her stop at large fruit stand, where she was allowed to look. Queen Anne cherries, perfect yellow globes shaded with red, stacked in a pyramid; Okanogan apples, which sounded exotic and delicious; and a group of fruits she didn't know.

"OK, Shego: you found my weakness. Let's snack." Shego bought an enormous bran muffin, edges flopping over the paper. "Dibs on the crunchy edges."

"You think." They found seats overlooking the docks. Seagulls with enormous gullets patrolled the borders; Shego handed her a big chunk of edge.

"No coffee?"

"You drink too much coffee."

"Shego, enough. You're driving me crazy; I keep getting thrown off balance."

"Kim: no-one can 'throw you' off balance; you decide to leave your center."

"You know what I mean."

Shego paused from muffin deconstruction, looked at her. "Maybe I do. You keep trying to provoke me. But I know what I want, and … well, it's like if I reach where you want to lead me, I'll lose that."

Her turn. Shego had thrown it right back, and it was her turn. Scary. "So what do you want. With me."

"Oh, a lot, Possible. But I thought we could start, I mean, I hoped we could . . . oh, damn!" Shego's phone rang. She listened, mumbled into it, turned back. "Sorry. Minor crisis; I have to get back to the office. Ah . . there's a car waiting outside; you can just have it for the day. Tell the driver where you want to go."

She couldn't believe it: she'd flown half way across the globe, and been dumped for a 'minor crisis.'

Shego stood. "Uh, Kim?" Shego looked . . . bashful? "This is . . .. Dinner; you want dinner? I mean, I'm messing this up. I take you out? You don't have to."

It changed everything; the whole morning. But she'd still been dumped. She shrugged,

"OK."

"If we did an early dinner like five, we could walk around later, see the city. I mean . . . if you want."

This time she messed up, smiling without thinking and Shego saw that, and relaxed a little.

"Alright, you win, Shego. I would love to have dinner with you, and a date after. Ditch the phone, though."

So she'd said it, and Shego hadn't said anything back, but led her to a car which was, as promised, waiting right outside the market. Large car, slab sided, probably thick steel armor, all with a double scoop of security guards.

"That's your basic town car? So, the security for you, or me? Wait!. It's like Spy Kids: 'Alone each was formidable. But together, they were a tempting target.'"

"Get in the car, Possible." Shego handed her in, checked she was secure, nodded to the driver and guard. She felt like Jolie.

"Where to, Doctor Possible?"

"Where do tourists go to spend a few hours?"

The guards looked at each other. "Well, I like to take my kids to the aquarium. It's a good one."

"OK. No, wait. Hotel. Then Point Grey."

_kigo: sharp night air_

_Kim tells her story_

I'd only brought three outfits: casual, business and dress, and nothing worked. Casual said I didn't care much who I was with. Business was wrong for dinner, and dress just crazy.

Mix & match: jeans, then a white, ribbed cashmere sweater; black one inch heels; that Paris thing. I don't normally do lipstick, but this was kind of special, so I used the Gemay sans trace bronze. Just in case. I had a kind of orange-colored emerald my dad gave me, and a chocolate-brown wool camel hair coat finished it off.

Shego met me at the Pallisades door, right at five. She'd gone ski bunny: mid-length sueded and fur-topped boots, jeans and a light ski jacket, open to show a red & white Canada scarf. More casual than me but a lot of young women were wearing the same look.

The air had a sharp sting, but it was a clear night and it had a kind of 'Dickens Christmas' feel, minus the snow. We went through back streets: small homes, small parks, four-story apartment buildings. Couples were taking their kids out for a walk; there were even two guys, holding hands and holding a two year old baby. I asked Shego "Is this the gay area?" But she said "That's Davie. But we're on the edge."

Eventually, we wound up on a street, Denman, with shops, eating places. Shego led us to a 'Bananna Leaf', where it looked like the owners knew her, because we got a seat right away, even though the tiny place was crowded.

"So. What do I order? I've been eating a lot of Algerian lately. But Malaysian is new."

"Do you want to go through the menu together? Or, if you trust me, I could order."

"Trust." I was hungry.

"Thank you. We'll start with fresh clams in a black bean sauce; some roti—that's a kind of Indian mille feuille bread and a spicy coconut sauce on the side. And . . . do you eat meat?"

"Shego: Mostly I eat lentils. I would love some meat, especially if you're paying." There: the new me, no pride.

"Alright; how about lamb slow cooked in an anise sauce?"

"Yum?"

The clams and roti were great but a LOT spicier than I expected. Shego noticed and asked if I drank, and if I'd like a glass of wine. She looked up and again someone was right there.

"A glass of the Inkymeep - I may not be spelling that right - for the lady." That did it.

"Shego, you know I appreciate the dinner, and you've been great. But it isn't a dinner with you unless it's a dinner WITH you. So would you please relax, drop the perfect host bit, and share a glass of wine with me?"

She spoke into her wrist – I swear, she'd been chipped! - and told me she'd got her second in command, who was called 'second', so she took the night off. We laughed about the old Star Trek 'number one and number two;' shared my wine and ordered another, and then the lamb came. It was melty tender, different from the stringy kind in a tagine, and the sauce was thick, rich with spices I'd never tasted before. Two shared glasses of wine and I asked her, "I've been wondering. What's with the tan?"

"It's Van; I never get the sun I need for that healthy complexion." She gave me this weird look and smile.

"Yeah, right. So what's Malaysian dessert?"

"Possible: do you actually eat during the regular year? Or do you live off your dates?"

"Dates. Hmm, let me check that. In the four years I left for Paris, I think I've had exactly, wait let me get this right … one! Date. Oh, gee! That's you! Is this answering your question?"

"So I get to be the lucky one. Alright, if you're up for a walk, I think I got a place you'll like."

So we walked, down Denman this time, window shopping. Then Shego led me up Robson, which she said was the main shopping street but kind of touristy. Expensive. A group of Japanese schoolgirls – in uniform, no less – had linked arms and were walking towards us, blocking the sidewalk. I looked at Shego, said 'Let's take 'em' and we joined arms, plowed right through, laughing. We walked slow, until Shego saw a store with a whole-body snow suit. It was white, with zippers, attachments and ski things in greens and reds. We went in to look, and it was three thousand dollars. Shego looked wistful, and we went on.

"You ski?"

"Yes. No, I'm learning. But isn't it neat?"

"Great on you. You'd be an item on the slopes."

Then she took my hand, pulled me into a chocolate place called 'Daniels.' Everything was made fresh, and they had three cases of four rows, each. When the woman behind the counter asked 'What can I get for you two?" I let Shego choose. The whole chocolate thing presented a problem, though.

"Your place, or mine?"

"Kim, Kim: there's only one place to eat a bag of hand-made Belgian chocolates. At a mall."

"Correct me if I'm wrong: we are downtown in the middle of a crowded city. So where do they hide a mall?"

"It's a secret. C'mon, I'll show you." And she grabbed my hand, and we were off again. It was secret, because she went through three or four stores – it blurred – down an escalator, and: mall! Underground; it made total sense.

"OK. I got one with maple syrup kind of filling. See the maple leaf?"

"I get it, Shego. Sheesh. Hey! Let's look in that leather store." I got her to try on a short burgundy jacket, but she said she wasn't into the dangerous look any more. I was thinking more 'cute' but I was also sobering up, so I didn't tell her about the cute.

The mall was crowded with the pre-Christmas bunch, but it was kinda fun, Shego leading me somewhere she wasn't saying. We stopped at a young & hip lingerie place. "Shego! Look, there's a nightshirt with a moose skiing. Look at that big nose. I'm getting it. It'll remind me of you. That didn't come out right." But I got the shirt and it was soft and fleecy, and we shared the last chocolate.

Shego's surprise was a store called Holt Renfrew, which was big and expensive. We passed a rack labeled 'eskandar;' Shego browsed, so I checked the price tags: Monique knows her stuff.

"This is work clothes; let's do play." She took me to the fur section (I don't kill things to wear them but some people do) where the salesman addressed her as 'Miss Go' and bowed and got her a chair. This should have clued me. Shego said, "My companion is looking for something sophisticated but sexy."

Grrrr! Shego was so going to pay. Meanwhile, I learned chinchilla was beautiful; that wearing fur made me queasy, also that was good because the jackets were fifteen-twenty thousand. Each.

Shego got a very sneaky look on her face, pulled out a short-cut coat she'd been hiding. "Last one. Arctic blue fox."

"Last one alive? You extincted this just for me? Awww, how sweet." But it was unique: pure white flecked with light grays and blue tint. Shego saw I liked it.

"No way."

"But it's a great price."

"Shego!"

"You win: I didn't think you'd go for it."

So I got to leave without wearing anything especially dead. We wandered, looked at pricey watches. Shego already had a Breitling guys watch, which did kind of fit her. They had this Tag Heuer, steel band with a strip of gold I could go for, but after the fur, I was cold sober and I didn't want Shego getting ideas so I kept it quiet. Also, I was getting this sense that Shego was more than a little out of my league.

Ha! The exit was by a coffee stand. "For the cold" and Shego didn't spoil it by saying anything. The streets were quiet, and I sipped the coffee and we didn't say much.

Shego delivered me, all safe, foot of the stairs, my hotel. Stopped. "Wanna go out running again, tomorrow morning? If you want. Or we could have breakfast."

I grabbed her belt, pulled her close; she lost balance, a little, so I steadied her, putting a hand on her hip, whispered "You're such a gent" and kissed her, properly, on the lips. "Running. Eight." I hurried up the steps, didn't look back. The doorman tipped his hat, said "You have a lovely evening, miss."

_kigo: thunderstorm_

_Shego's point of view_

Shego got to Kim's room at seven. The door was half open, and she could see Kim packing.

"When I said 'run' I didn't mean away from me."

Kim looked up at her, looked very defenseless. "They got Wade."

"I know: Wade's a client."

"He's missing and . . . a client?"

Shego hated that on Kim, then she stopped. 'hate' was one of her trigger words; sent her into a biofeedback loop. She had a whole list of trigger words, and the biofeedback was the only thing, kept her from going green. She breathed, walked in. "Kim: I need you to be a hundred percent, now."

Shego had to give her credit: Kim got it. "All I got was a text from DGSE; I'm to assist local forces, as opportunity arises. Problem: Wade's my usual transportation."

"Right. We have a plane standing by, and agents on the scene; I want you on our team. Two things: if you're coming with us, you'll have to sign the usual releases, confidentiality, etc."

"Standard; no problem."

"Second: I expect you to observe the chain of command."

"Who is my immediate superior officer on this mission?"

"I am."

"Then let's move. Sir."

Possible was full of surprises. "Get your passport."

"American or DGSE?"

"We'll both go French; keep this quiet."

They 'coptered out; Kim did paperwork while Shego got a briefing. She'd worked it as a consultant deal, so Kim got insurance. She was not gonna put Kim in danger, but she did take care of her people.

They landed at the company hanger, Vancouver International and Shego had one more surprise for Kim.

"Shego: is that a MiG Foxbat?"

"Yeah: the ultimate billionaire toy; my investors use it on timeshare. You qualified on this aircraft?"

"I can fly the 27."

"Really different. So, you take weapons. By the way: no weapons; we converted everything to fuel storage."

Shego's flight plan took her up and out, fast; wild ride as they moved through heavy rain.

"Mach 2, here we go. You alright back there, Possible?"

"Check."

"Alright. I'll brief you. Most of what I'm about to tell you is confidential. We keep our information secure: even I'm on need-to-know.

"So, remember I asked Stoppable if he knew who Wade was; get him off your case. I liked your reply: 'no'."

Kim picked up immediately. "The Wade report: gather, filter, analyze. Every government has their CIA or DGSE, but no-one does it better than him."

"Right. One hundred thousand a month for unlimited service; even Securite Global can't afford that. But it does make him very wealthy and very powerful; he's a high profile target and under constant watch."

"There's no such thing as constant watch."

"Good. So, turns out, Wade has this one weakness: he likes girls, and he likes them expensive, and he likes them different, every week."

"Wow. People really do change, after graduation. So, you're telling me he uses escort services? I'm guessing he's not living with his mom in Middleton."

"Right again. So: where's he living?" They'd had one day together; now this. It was a bizarre, coded conversation; one they might have had years back. The constant testing was irritating Kim, but Shego needed to know.

"Prostitutes, power, money: Hong Kong, Singapore, D.C. Since we're in the MiG, D.C."

"Wade has a brownstone near Dupont Circle. He had a girl come in last night; this morning he's missing. The escort agency is under surveillance; we're trailing the girl. What's next?"

"We go in. Covert, undercover, or the old 'shock and awe'."

"Your recommendation?"

Kim was quiet a bit. "Covert gives best odds for the hostage, if you have an agent who can pull it off. Satellite shows a range of ventilator hoods on the roof housing the escort agency. I used to be pretty good at this."

Shego sighed, but only to herself. She'd known where it led, and it was the last thing she wanted. But she was as afraid of keeping Kim from being Kim, as she was of getting her hurt. One last card to play.

"Used to be, or are? Can you tell me you are up for this mission, Possible? Can I put other lives on the line, and know you'll come through?"

"I am up, and I will not put your people at risk. Sir."

So. One more, tiny, chance. "You understand that you may be the real target, and Wade is being used as bait?"

"Do you have the forces to extract both of us?"

Inshallah; she'd done her best.

"Landing."

Her agents had chosen National as their staging area; it was the most secure location they could access in a hurry, and still have 'copter backup. While Kim was chipped, tagged, wired, bugged and suited up, Shego outlined her plan. One agent would enter undercover looking for escort work, and Possible would go in through the roof. With Kim in, they'd stage a harmless car accident on the front street, creating a distraction and blocking traffic. They had eyes and guns covering all four corners. She'd monitor operations from a van two streets over.

It went perfectly for all of five minutes.

"I'm in." The cameras showed only black.

"Loft; two story; dark. I'm going down." Kim's whisper seemed so loud.

"Clear. I'm."

"Data link down on Agent One, sir."

"Monitor." She and Kim knew the escort agency was an unlikely place to hold Wade. The goal of inserting Kim was to provoke a reaction. Maybe panic them.

"Agent One is stationary."

"Or her transponders are. Eyes, talk to me."

She got four 'clears', then, "we have motion; car leaving building."

"Tag and follow." She used drones and a car; they'd never lost a target.

Within five minutes, she had four new targets. This was gonna stretch her. And then she got it. Only one car was heading across the Potomac, into the city. Right up New Hampshire; she could even guess the destination.

She'd gotten it wrong: they weren't after Wade; Wade wasn't bait for Kim. They were after Securite Global; they wanted to know her limits. With Kim on the line, she wouldn't change SOP, but … she already knew how it would go down.

"Team D: go over the agency. Your priority is to find traces of Agent One. Team A, follow me; we're after Target One." Having something to do helped block the obvious: in that building, Kim would have been stripped, thrown into a car. If Shego once thought about that, she would go green, all the way back to the bottom.

The kidnappers had one surprise left: they didn't stop at Wade's brownstone, but across the street. She checked: the Counsulate of Wot. The Yatakelt of Wot wasn't going to be pleased, having her counsulate violated, but Shego didn't care. She brought in medevac, then went in, full shock and awe: exploding windows, doors battered down. She took two agents and medical to the basement; the remaining team covered the upper floors.

As expected, it was classic dungeon: Wade lying, face down, naked, held down with S&M cuffs. Kim, unconscious, lay naked at the foot of the bed. She was getting reports of an empty building: no-one to blast out of existence. Med took Kim; Shego flew out with her.

_kigo: mountain snow_

_Shego tells her story_

Hospital staff hassled me on next-of-kin; that never, ever pays, and the field agents enjoy showing why, taking care of their own. I waited in her room, until I got a diagnosis: they'd stuck her with propofol phosphate and lorazepam; careful to not hurt her; careful to keep her out of action. I left guards, went to the geek.

No injuries. "Zip: they drugged me, I woke up cuffed. They took a few photos."

"Did they get photos of Kim?"

"No. It wasn't about her, Shego. They wanted me: blackmail or discredit me, in some gay S&M thing."

"Think: everyone knows your tastes. The 'gay thing' is a non-starter. So no gay; no blackmail. Think about it."

"Oh. A trap trap."

"No it isn't, and stop treating this as a joke. You are a priority client, and we fielded our best people. They now know what we can do. Next time – and you can be sure there will be a next time – they'll be prepared for us."

"What do we do next?"

"Quit the escort garbage, Wade and grow up. You keep putting yourself at risk like this and I'm not going to carry you."

"Get over yourself; I can hire anyone I want. This is about Kim, isn't it? I know what you're up to with her, and I don't like it."

The geek got lucky, because right then, they wheeled Kim out. 'Copter to National, Learjet 60 to Van: fast, available, and I'd bill the geek. He was a very lucky man.

So now I'm stuck with Possible. Nobody stays at my place. Scratch that: nobody even sees my place.

But Kim, drugged out. I'm not gonna let her wake alone and she doesn't know where she is. So I showed her the extra room and bath; she wanted to 'freshen up' and I checked for her luggage. No sign; I called in and they'd sent it to Paris. Great. Now I gotta share clothes. Call from Wade.

After freshen, Kim had my UnderArmor shirt and shorts; pretty much same thing I'd wear. Still kinda groggy, she was looking around at the prints and stuff. Like a cat, sniffing out the room. Looked like she could use a hot chocolate, so I went to the kitchen, programmed the Miele.

She was standing in front of one of my Hasui, the 'Rain at Sanno'. I gave her the cup: "Taste."

"French roast. You're a softie."

"One time only coupon. How you like the Hasui?" Part of it, I wondered what she saw. If she saw.

"Wow."

"Yeah." Oh, well.

"You look at that tree, right in the center. And then that tiny woman, you can barely see her. It's like some of the Taoist art; how insignificant we are."

"Ummm."

"But then there's the rain. They had this Genji exhibit at the Bibliotheque Nationale? The catalogue said about –I don't know – loss. How you can have something, and it'll be perfect, but it won't last. The tree and the temple are overwhelming, but the key is the rain, telling you none of it will last."

"_Mono no aware_." Kim kept throwing me off balance. I think 'high school kid' but then she does this. So, finally, I got it. Kim was grown up, and I never saw it coming.

Kim prowled; she looked at me, checking if she could open my Moroccan inlay box; I nodded, put on an acoustic guitar mix while she looked at my stuff.

"Are these stone people?"

"Yeah." She had the turquoise in her hand. "That's Abueleta Consuela, I call her. I love the way the blue/greens are like paint drops, splashed on black."

"This?" My boulder opal. "She's 'Lucky Lucy from Coober Pedy'. Mined in outback Oz. Turn it against the light, you can see all kinds of colors. They're hidden, waiting for you."

But Kim turned away, and then she saw: the view looking out on the north shore mountains. I had about a hundred-eighty of mountain and water, city and sky.

"What are those lights? All blurred, in the sky?"

"Grouse Mountain ski lift. Probably snowing, up there."

"Oh." She was quiet, for a little. One of my songs came on; I thought she wasn't listening, but then that line: "I must have wanted you in every town, and it's no surprise. That want alone don't sit you down by my love eyes." and she looked right at me.

I'd had about everything I could take; walked over in back of her, put my arms around her waist, rested my palms on her flat, flat tummy.

She shuddered, like I was holding something wild. After a second or two she calmed; didn't relax.

We watched the slow, tacit mountains. We musta stood for twenty minutes, and I was so out of it, when she fell asleep I didn't notice. Balance: she slept standing. I scooped her up, took her to the guest bed. She smiled a little, fell back asleep. I kissed her.

I am so lost.

_kigo: night rain_

_Kim's point of view_

When Kim woke it was dark; the sound of rain reminded her where she was. She tossed around in the soft sheets, wrapped the down comforter around her. She'd had a dream she didn't remember but something happened in it, like a light come from the sky, filling her life with joy, and she wanted her dream to be her life.

She woke again to light, and there was a croissant and carafe on her bed table. Sitting up: croissant warm and crisped; she poured a cup of . . . hot chocolate. Blah. Then it hit her: she remembered.

Last night, Shego held her, in her arms. The dream she wanted was living with Shego. Kim bent over, hugged the comforter. She had this sinking feeling, like the Titanic. Taunting Shego, teasing her, flirting with her, and now she was the one who'd fallen, and the one who was gonna get hurt.

Yoga clothes set out at the foot of the bed: Shego the perfect hostess, and she was so outclassed. Kim checked the living room, stopped: Shego was in full lotus, meditating; opposite Shego, a low table: bowl, teapot, whisk, two cups: tea ceremony. Two forms, balanced. She sat, next to Shego, assumed the lotus.

Meditation, the complex ceremony after, were silent, but brought her no peace. Shego broke the silence, rose, clearing the table. "So …"

"Shego: we need to talk. About last night."

"Sheesh: I wouldn't have kissed you if I knew you were awake."

"What!"

"And please don't give me that 'I don't swing that way' stuff, I am so sick…"

"Shego!" Kim gave up; in two seconds, she'd rushed Shego, brushed away her hands, flipped her on her back, and straddled her waist. Instead of fighting, Shego looked at her, waiting to see what she'd do next.

What Kim did was place a finger over her lips, brush them lightly. "First rule: if there are gonna be kisses, I want to be awake!

"Second:"

"Uh, Kim? Question? One question?"

"Yeah."

"Are you always this high maintenance?"

It drained all her energy, everything, and she rolled off Shego, wound up looking at the ceiling. "I went to Paris. To be with you."

"I . . . I was so messed up." Shego's mood changed just as fast. "The prize thing, then UNICEF. The French thought I was a hero." Shego laughed. They lay, each on her own side of the room, a few feet from each other. "Some guy even named a line of green lingerie after me. I couldn't deal, Kim. I was so lost, and I tried, but I wasn't who they wanted. Then you came to Paris."

Shego stood, looked, through the rain, at her mountains. Kim rose too, stood beside Shego. "Je suis desole."

"Don't ever say that. It was me; I ran, a cloister in the Carpathians. One of them total silence places. Left me, alone, thinking how I screwed up my life. And people."

"I can't see you as a nun."

"Yeah, well maybe you had to be there. So I ran again, put in two years in Japan, at a Zen temple. Sensei said I was his little green-meter; he could just look at my skin and know where I was. If I turned tan he'd kick me out."

"You were ready."

"Ready to go where no-one knew me. Halfway around the world from you was a good start. I made a new life, by myself."

"Why does it have to be always alone?"

Shego's phone rang.

"Shego, no!"

The only thing that saved Shego right then was putting the call on hold. "It's alright. C'mon." She put an arm around Kim's waist, took the call.

Kim saw Wade's face on the phone: "Shego. Oh, hey, Kim! Uh, guys, you're on camera…"

Shego went "Rawrrr", punched the phone, and it went back to voice mode. "Alright Wade, what is it."

"Couple of things. First, watch out; remember what I told you. Second, looks like Drakken's starting his move. Ron and Bonnie are at one of his retreats. Something's up."

"Details?"

"On your printer. Think of it as a friendly warning. Out."

"Hold on." Kim grabbed the phone. "What about Ron? Is he in danger?"

"I don't know how much trouble he can get into, at a business retreat. It's just – well, it's Drakken, you know? You don't have to exactly drop everything. Especially if you're busy. But I'd schedule a little trip to Texas, in the next few days. Alright?"

"OK, Wade; thanks for the heads-up. Out."

She handed back Shego's phone. "What do you think?"

"I know it's Ron, and he's important to you. On the other hand, they pay Wade like a hundred K a month for this."

"That's reassuring; thanks. We'll check into it later. Meanwhile: 'Watch out'? 'Friendly warning'? Are you hiding something?"

Shego looked thoughtful. Hesitant.

"Give it up, Shego." She placed her fingertips right over Shego's tummy. Tickle spot.

"Possible, you want to think about what you're doing. Tickle me there and I promise you'll regret it."

"Bully. Anyway: give."

"I suppose." Shego sighed, got out "If we're gonna ever." Kim was beginning to understood how hard this was for Shego; hugged her fiercely. Shego added, "So we can't keep secrets, then." Hesitated again, then:

"Wade said he'd bankrupt me if you got hurt."

"None of his business, much? My choice, to go on that mission; I take care of myself. Gimme that phone."

"Uh, that's not exactly what he said. I . . he." Shego drew a deep breath. "He said that if I ever hurt you again he'd get me, and bankruptcy would be only the start. There."

"I'm not sure I like that any better. So what did you say?"

"I hit the geek. Possible: I may not be a hundred percent with this peace and good will thing."

Kim said, "I suppose we ought to be thinking about Ron."

"He's not in any immediate danger. Besides: still printing; listen."

"Oh."

Silence. Mountains; rain. Great view, though.

"Wait a second! Why is Ron on your computer? Don't tell me he's a client. He couldn't afford a …"

"Ooo, I was hoping we could avoid this. No, Stoppable isn't a client. You are."

"Really? And is there a file on me?"

"I assume so; I wouldn't know."

"Really."

"I said: it's need to know and I'm not assigned to your case. Look: all the files are 256 bit encrypted. We get an assignment, we get the key to the parts we need. I don't know your income, where you live, or who you date."

"You. And I'd like to keep it that way, but this isn't helping."

"That oughta look interesting in the file. I think I can tell you this: Wade's paying the tab, at least until this Drakken thing gets sorted out. He felt kinda guilty about yesterday."

"Really." Kim folded her arms, and glared. She didn't want or need protection, and the idea of being part of some macho deal between Shego and Wade made her angry.

But there was last night. Shego had taken care of her, and . . . and it was like her life had finally clicked.

Macha; it should be 'macha'.

Shego had begun glaring back at her. Kim stopped glaring, stopped blaming Wade or Shego. What'd Shego say? Know what you want and never let go of that. And then she understood: balance.

"Shego: you got a choice. One way, I can be your client; you and Wade can go on with this protection thing. And I walk.

"Two:"

"C'mon, Kim; give us a break. We were both on edge about yesterday."

By logic of choice and consequence, Kim now had to say it.

"Or the other: we can be part of each others lives. Maybe fall in love."

Shego began pacing, circling the room, and stood, breathing deeply, watching the mountains. For Kim, it was

"Alright Shego, I can't take this. Do I have any chance at all with you?"

Shego looked at her, puzzled. "Well, I got two things to say to you. One: Possible, that is the worst threat I have ever heard anyone try. Don't cave in after like two seconds.

"Two: I really screwed up in Paris. I wish we could start over. If it's worth anything - I'm sorry.

"Three: you said about chance. Yeah."

Kim wanted to ask more, but the odd thing was, she was, she trusted Shego. There was something so innocent in Shego's way with her. Just – she didn't know what to reply. What did she want?

Apparently, to lie in Shego's lap. After a few minutes with nothing more serious than Shego's hand on her tummy, Kim relaxed. So this was what it felt like to be complete.

_kigo: winter stars_

_Kim tells her story_

Falling in love messed my brain, because it was a while before we got to Ron. Shego really was a gent, just holding me. Like a dream.

Oops. Back on track, now. The printouts said Drakken had bought out some bankrupt holistic health place in Texas. Austin, that was it; 'The Trails.' I searched through the pile of printouts; Wade included a pamphlet.

"Shego: I don't know how people fall for this hokey stuff. Listen: 'Empowering Your Inner C.E.O. Discover how to release your inner power, through a combination of natural herbs, meditation techniques, and self-realization. The world famous Doctor Drakken' I can't go on."

But Shego didn't say anything, and I remembered she had gone through a whole spiritual discipline, and she'd changed. She was gentle, and balanced, and she seemed to have really found happiness. So what made her different? Was it always inside her?

Thing was – I found I no longer regretted Paris: Shego'd always known why I was there, she just needed time. I probably shouldn't have bought the 'Shego' line of underwear, but we all make some mistakes.

I was so losing it. "Shego! Come help me? I can't figure out what we're gonna do."

"Oh, we're a 'we' now? What happened to Kim 'I take care of myself' Possible?"

"Please? I know I can't afford you – I checked you out, online. But is your company still interested in Drakken?"

"Yep; company jet is reserved; we can leave this afternoon. Get in late, though. At least you don't have to pack."

"Right: so get me some stuff, and I'll check out satellite. I'm just not sure how to play this."

"Talk on the plane."

"Hey! Am I in charge on this one?"

Shego shouted from her bedroom: "You wanna be?"

I thought I wanted to get her for the whole 'superior officer' thing, but now . . . "No, I'd rather be like a team. We take care of each other." My mind still wrapped around being a couple; I couldn't let go of the 'us' word. I thought to myself 'I'll deal' and smiled.

It was thirty minutes into the flight before we got down to business. "Shego – what's our mission, here? I mean, I've always had someone decide my missions. I'm not used to this."

"Good, Kim. Some options: Extraction: get Ron, probably painlessly, leave. Intelligence: what's Drakken really up to? Prevention: shut him down. Anything else?"

"How about a little of all three?"

"Wouldn't be my choice, Kim. Too unfocused; easy to get lost."

"Alright, how's this: get Ron, see what we can learn?"

"Sounds good. Now – what kind of backup?"

"You." I smiled.

"Always. But … You were out of it, most of the last mission. They got us to show what we could do, so, they'll be expecting us. We have to give them something different. And it's not as though Drakken won't recognize us."

"Covert?"

"Very. Let's have a look at those satellite images."

"OK, I've been looking. Trails is out of town, on a hilltop, pretty densely wooded. A lot of trails, hence the name. I like this one – runs all the way down to that big lake. We could probably do a night-time reconnaissance, enter through there. Tonight, I suppose."

"I like it. This building here is the main center; they'd do presentations, dinner, stuff. I'd say private rooms over here. Now, let's run through scenarios." And she did. Working with a pro was exciting, and I felt proud. Of her.

It had to be a mini-Cooper. Shego's choice, and she drove. "These are tough roads; worse at night. It's a good car." We did drive down long winding curves. The moonlight was just enough to show cliff faces, steep drop-offs. I felt safe with her. More safe with her.

So it was scary, but we got there. The lake had a marina, motel. We tried to get a room – wound up with two, it turned out. Shego just said 'Texas.' We suited up, infrared and GPS, blackout suit for Ron if we found him on recon, and headed up the trail.

Texas weather close to Christmas was like mid-Autumn anywhere else. Chilly, really clear sky. This far from the city, more stars than I've seen since I was a kid. Great nature hike; better if I coulda seen something besides the path.

It was an hour uphill; the conference center was still fully lit at midnight. The architect wanted to show off the hilltop views (pretty good, actually) and binocs gave a good look through the windows. About forty people – guys, and Bonnie with Drakken at the podium.

I tapped Shego's shoulder, pointed; she nodded. Ron. He looked . . . drugged out. And oddly bulky, and he was sitting wrong. They all looked drugged out. And odd, in the same way. Wait – except Bonnie. I thought 'brainwashing' but that doesn't actually work. Unless Drakken had something new. But, then, there it was: why Ron? He was a good, decent human being, but the last brain I'd choose for laundry.

We split up, did an IR scan through the windows. I got it, brought Shego back, pointed: Ron's bag. Thermal showed three tiny heat sources.

Shego did retrieval. Rufus looked drugged and weird. I heard a chirpy 'KP!' from one of the kids. At least they were safe.

Back in my room, Shego played with the kids – I know, I know – and I examined Rufus. He was lethargic, unresponsive, while the kids were active, alert. Happy to see us, really; I kept hearing 'Shego' and 'tickle' squeaks.

Rufus wasn't just lethargic; there was something wrong with his front limbs. They were elongated, twisted, and the nails were overgrown. Little fellow probably couldn't walk on all fours. Shego came over, sat next to me, and Raffae, or maybe Ruya, tugged at my sleeve. "drug." She pointed at Rufus, and the other went 'uh-huh.'

"So what's the diagnosis?"

"For now, we'll go with what the kids say: drugs. Don't know why they'd drug old Rufus, though. Don't know why they wouldn't go on, drug the kids. Don't know why Rufus has deformed front legs."

"Drakken's building a mutant army. Again, I might add."

I almost laughed. I'd been out of it so long, I'd forgotten: Shego was actually making sense.

"Mutations can't usually change a whole forelimb" I said that, and then it clicked. "Unless it's a drug that triggers a whole developmental pathway. Or a sequence – almost like miRNA. Oh: I get it. It's a sex thing; the genes Drakken's trying to express are Y-linked. Male only. The kids are safe, Bonnie's unaffected – darn – and we ought to be safe. From that, anyway."

"Kim: I have no idea what you just said. One thing though – it sounds way over Drakken's head. He could be fronting."

"Yeah, well, it'd have to be someone with a serious lab." I yawned.

"Do you think it's drugs?"

"Could be, but if Rufus got a dose, it'd have to be in the food, water or air. I'd go with food."

"Alright. If we get food samples and maybe blood work, you think you could pin it down?"

"Probably. Again, I'd need a lab. There is a major University here; I could probably talk my way in."

Shego stood. "Kim: let's suit up. Kids: wanna go for an adventure?" They hopped up, right into her pocket. Amazing.

We made better time this trip. Vents always give away a professional kitchen; Shego went in: she has skills I didn't. Practice, too. Just before, I whispered "Pills. It's probably in pill form, maybe capsules." Anything else would be degraded too quickly, passing through the GI tract.

Shego went in, and she didn't come out. I waited, and I can't tell you what I felt, but I was all ready to go in, Jane Wayne, guns blazing. But like Shego said: they knew we were coming. And what she didn't say: Ron was bait; Drakken wanted me. So I ran.

The night was incredibly long. It's amazing, it surprised me, how love sharpens every feeling, every thought. I'd blown it, from start to finish; made all the wrong choices, and Shego, my wonderful friend, my love, had gone along with it all. Even put up with my rant about Wade . . .

Wade.

The call came about seven; he didn't even bother to disguise his voice. "Kim Possible? I believe I have something you want."

"Yes. I'm willing to trade."

"Oh, excellent. Why don't you come visit, at my little resort? It's quite a delightful spa; you may even want to stay. Forever!"

"What, no gloat?"

"Oh, there will be time for gloat. But right now, I need a developmental microbiologist. How convenient you're in town."

"Well, as long as I won't miss out on gloat." I hung up.

This time, I went in by the front entrance. A long road, but the views really were spectacular. Landscape all scraggly trees, adapted to the searing summer climate. The twisted forms, ancient limestone were beautiful in an almost deadly way.

Drakken was standing at the entrance to the main building. He seemed surprised as I stepped out of the Sheriff's car. Only time I'll ever be glad Shego wore the eskandar; I looked very important and very wealthy in her outfit. The Texas Ranger backup vehicles fanned out, officers emerging quickly. Like I said, Drakken seemed surprised.

The county sheriff spoke first. "Are you Drew Lipski, aka one 'Doctor Drakken?' I have two warrants here. The first is a warrant to search the premises for a female Caucasian by the name of 'Go.' The second is an arrest warrant for you, and a Ms. Bonnie Rockweiler. You are both charged with criminal trespass. Please take these. Do you understand the warrants served?"

"I . . . there must be some mistake. This is my property. I own this. It's mine!"

"Not according to this document. The property is owned by . . . let me see … some WadeCorp Holding. Miss Possible is this here company's representative." The sheriff turned to me, whispered "Why is his skin blue?"

"Whole body tattoo. I don't even want to think what this . . cult .. is doing here on my client's property. Officer? May I accompany the team searching for this kidnap victim? I need to assess property damage; get witnesses."

The lead Ranger on the search team tipped his hat. "Sure may, ma'am. C'mon with us."

We hit the cafeteria first. Closeup, in daylight, you could see the guys were bulked up, like they'd been taking some weird super steroid. Probably those 'natural herbs' in the brochure. Wow! Texans ate a lot of meat . . . I was thinking, Shego said 'mutant army' and she'd been right; giant muscleguys. Right at the end of the buffet were bowls of pills. Some Omega 3's, vitamins, and something in a gelcap I didn't know. Easy to palm a handful, though.

Didn't take long to locate Shego, either; we found her in Drakken's office, bound and gagged. I so wanted to hug her, kiss her, right there, but I did hear, back of my mind, her 'Texas' so best I could do was sneak in a hand squeeze while I untied her. Unhurt, of course: Drakken needed her, for the 'trade.' I wondered, how it was, to see people just as units, counters, pieces in your game. Shego wasn't that way at all; I'd never understood how different Drakken was. Maybe that was the mutant brain.

Shego caught on quick, once she saw the law officers; while she made a statement, I went for Ron. With ten staff, twenty officers and forty drugged clients being loaded on buses, it wasn't hard to lead him away, hide him. For the moment, he stayed put.

Drakken had already been cuffed, was sitting in back of a Ranger SUV. I'd have loved to question him, but didn't want to blow my cover. Bonnie was another matter. Cuffed, standing with one guard.

"I'll get you for this, Possible."

"Well, kidnapping is a pretty serious charge. Good thing you didn't cross state lines, huh? I hear they execute criminals in Texas."

"My parents . . . "

"Oh, which would those be? According to this rap sheet, you've got a whole slew of aliases: 'Rockschnauzer, Rockfurter, Rockshund.' And it seems you have four previous convictions. Real estate fraud, oh! You even ran a prostitution ring in Washington D.C. You have been naughty."

"That's ridiculous. It was an escort service and we just set that up for . . . " She shut her trap just in time, though.

"Computers don't lie, honey."

"My lawyers"

"Ms. Rockenfurter, our sources say you have no funds." That did get to her. She looked death, right that moment.

"So, you will have the best representation Legal Aid can provide. Do try to get a lawyer who can stay awake through your trial."

"I will get you."

"Why bother? It was Wade you kidnapped, Bonnie, and he has a very long memory. You may get out, though your prison record will probably always look bad. I doubt the psychiatrists reports will sound any better. If you manage a parole, you'll probably be picked up almost immediately for drugs or petty theft or . . . well, you get the idea. Don't you?"

Shego was listening, motioned me to walk with her. We got alone and she said, "Nice threat work, there, Possible. You're really something. Nice kiss."

Wow.

I was tired. Sad, too, as though everything had been my fault. It wasn't hard to feel guilty. Would it have been the same, if I hadn't gone off, chasing Shego? Or was Ron just too innocent, too nice a human, for his own good?

We walked Ron back down to the lake and motel; I got my blood samples. Ron and Rufus were starting to shake off the docility drug; at least they were mentioning 'lunch' regularly. I know how to pick 'em.

I also did a quick physical on Ron. He had increased shoulder development, but not the kind of limb malformation I'd seen in Rufus. My offhand guess was Drakken had activated some developmental sequence left in the genome from ape ancestors. Ron had been on the drug for at most two days, so no real anatomical change. Worst case, Ron would look slightly more hunky. I expected he could live with that.

Rufus was in worse shape. He didn't have ape genes in his ancestry, so the gene expression had been warped. If he'd been eating what Ron ate – and I had vivid memories of pizza contests – he would have had about a hundred times the exposure, per kilo, that Ron got. Poor little guy. Shego owed me some serious cash as a 'consultant' on the DC mission; I'd get Rufus the best veterinary surgeon there was.

Never did find the brain behind Drakken. So that loomed as well.

The real tough was gonna be in Vancouver.

_kigo: winter squall_

_omniscient author tells the story_

Kim yawned, stretched. "It is so good to be home. Oops." She glanced at Shego, who hadn't noticed.

"Second that. You want anything? Order in?"

"Just a nightie; I am gonna sleep like nobody's business."

"Nightie; right. Possible, next time you visit me, will you please bring your own clothes?" But she returned, with an oversized checked flannel shirt.

"I'll look like a lumberjack. Where's my moose?"

"Go to bed, Possible. Ah . . . sleep tight."

But Kim rushed over, gave Shego a peck on the cheek. "Now I will."

The storm woke her; heavy rain, pounding the windows. So heavy, the windows gave only a blur of city lights.

She wandered into the living room, saw Shego on the couch, holding a mug, sitting with one foot tucked under her thigh. Given eight hundred square feet of sitting places, she chose right next to Shego, lay her head on her shoulder.

"Gimme.

"Coffee?"

"Decaf."

They didn't talk, but Shego put an arm around her shoulders, and went "Oh!" and eventually Kim nodded off. When she woke again, Shego said "Let's get some sleep. Short day tomorrow."

They split, but after five minutes in bed, Kim was at Shego's door. Shego was sitting up, light on, sipping something from a small glass. Kim crawled across the bed, got under the covers, discovered a nook between Shego's hip and chest, laid her head there.

"Kim?"

"I came halfway across the world to be with you. You know it, I know it, stop the pretend. This is my last night, and if you make me beg, you'll pay."

Something like half an hour later, Shego said, "This isn't working."

"I can't sleep either, but do we really want to go there?"

"Way too late to ask that, Kim."

"I meant sex."

"So. The other night. With the music and stuff?"

"When you held me in your arms."

"That."

Kim sighed. "Yeah, I popped. If you don't know why . . . oh, gimme some of that stuff you're drinking." Kim knelt, was ready to steal the glass.

"Just clearing the air. Now we know where we stand."

So Kim turned, pushed Shego's shoulders against the headboard. "You have no idea where I stand." And she kissed her, soft, lips brushing lips, teasing until she felt something change, and then serious, until they were both breathing hard and fast.

"That's where I stand."

Shego didn't move. "Uh, Kim? I think maybe I misled you? A little?"

"No. Do not tell me that. Not now, not now, not…"

"Oh, shut up. Not that. It's . . . embarrassing. I never, ah, been with another woman. I just . . . just want to take this slow."

"Oh."

"But." Shego moved to look at her, rested her arms on Kim's shoulders, closed her eyes, and parted her lips.

Kim kissed her again, different this time, something less sex and more that ache she felt and called love, and when she stopped Shego said "I don't think I can take it slow."

Like most couples who fall asleep in each others arms, Kim and Shego woke on opposite sides of the bed, woke just a little embarrassed: about what they'd done, and hadn't done. About what they'd revealed, and if it was too much. They washed and dressed separately, met in the living room, and Shego made coffee for Kim. She was careful, polite, neutral.

"When's your plane?"

"Two."

"Anything special you wanna do?"

Kim wanted to scream, but like a nightmare, she was trapped: five hours and she would be gone. All of it would be gone. "I want to remember everything. Ah . . . I want to walk by the seawall, say goodbye to Inuksuk."

They took a shortcut, across city streets and down to a beach, walked. Shego took her hand, said, "just shut up" so they held hands, walked. The waves were choppy, and Shego pointed, across the bay: "Check it out."

"Squall line. That's gonna be something."

Just after Inuksuk, the squall hit them. Ice pellets, thrown against their faces; heavy waves throwing water five feet in the air. They ran, laughing, ran into and against the storm: alive, in love, together. Hid in a small restaurant.

"Hey, Miss Shego. The usual?"

"Sure; one up, Sameed."

What they got was a falafel, wrapped in pita, dripping tahini, thick yoghurt. Kim tried sharing, unwrapping the wrong end, biting down; sauce, chopped tomato, squished out the other end. Shego grabbed, rewrapped, said, "Cut that out; eat from the same side." Later, walking, Shego understood: they weren't like different people anymore. Bed and food and clothes and bodies, they were together, and she wasn't just Shego.

They'd walked aimlessly, and Kim stopped to look at a small house for sale. An agent came out, offered her hand. She was tall, kind of Nordic – no, Russian; that was it.

"This a good little house." Eyed the two of them. "Perfect for young couple, just starting out."

Shego laughed, "We've got a place. Thanks." Later Kim asked "Why do they keep doing that? Everyone here keeps thinking we're a couple. Is this whole place gay?"

"Well, you know, same-sex marriages are legal. Take old Natasha there. If she played that wrong, she'd not only lose us, but lose part of the gay community. So it's a tricky line, she has to walk."

"But us. What made her think we're a couple? That's what I want to know."

Shego was in no mood to go into it, but tried anyway. "So: you look at two people. What makes you think they're together? Or not?"

"I don't know. They kiss, hug."

"And if they've been married a long time?"

"Ahh . . ."

"Ok, basic detective work. Cuz a lot of rookies don't know this. People in love stand close to each other. They're always kind of checking in with each other, glances, touches, little things."

"You're saying, we do that?"

"How was that falafel?"

"Hit the spot, but I could have gone for another. Oh! We shared. Like a couple."

"I want to take you a special place for lunch, so I thought we'd eat light. And yeah. Like that night, we had dinner?"

"You mean, our first date."

"That. You know, one of my staff saw us at the mall? Now everyone at work thinks we're together."

"Sorry. That glass of wine. It . . . why am I saying this? I'm not sorry; it was a great date even though the fur show was over the top. I will get you for that, Shego."

"Oh look! Chocolate."

"How'd we get here? Can I get some for the plane? You have to help me order what we had on our date. I want to remember it."

Shego grabbed her arm, unexpectedly, and they stood, right outside the chocolate shop window. "Just . . . one thing, Possible."

Shego had reverted to tough. "I want to know. If I'm gonna see you again."

"After we had that muffin on the island? I guess I knew. I had your people drive me to the University at Point Gray. They don't have anyone working in my area."

Shego just looked at her. A look she'd never seen, like she was lost.

"They want me to move here, permanent job. But I honestly don't know how I could afford this city, Shego. I mean, that tiny house back there was a over a million. I'll tell you, professors don't make that kind of money."

"We could live together." Seeing no response from Kim, Shego added "I mean, until we found you a place. I could help; we could look around."

Shego sounded almost desperate, and Kim couldn't stop herself: one last tease. "Oh. So we're a 'we' now, are we?" Shego, looking defeated, nodded.

"I needed to hear that 'we'. I can't do Paris all over again, Shego.

"Now, gimme your phone. No, cough up, I need a phone.

"Uh, yeah, could you say Kim Possible is calling?" She tried to balance: an arm around Shego and holding the phone. "Yes, it is. I'd be very happy to accept that offer, if it's still open. Yes, this afternoon is fine. Immigration? Oh, boy. I understand. I'll have to ask my director at Pasteur, but sure. No, not at all; it's through the French government, and I'm certain the funding will transfer. Yes, two this afternoon. Au revoir. Here."

That last to Shego, returning her cell. "So: I start in April." Then it hit her. Before, mostly she thought about the city and Shego, and Shego showing her the city, and being in love. But now it was immigration and packing, moving, finding a place. Setting up a lab, finding grad students, teaching. Writing grants. Dealing with love, maybe a lover. Growing up came in a hurry, and all at once.

"What?" Shego saw Kim wavering on her feet. "You OK, Possible?"

"No. It's a lot. I need to sit down." Sure, in the middle of a busy international shopping street. "Or, look. I know it's weird, but can you just hold me?"

So they stood, in each others arms, while the tourists gaped and the locals smiled: young love. "Uh, Kim?"

"Forget it. I'm not moving."

"Chocolate."

"I got appointments at UBC the next three days. It'll keep. Oh! I forgot. I gotta get a place for tonight."

"I was serious. Aaarrrr!" Kim had to smile. Invisibly, because her face was still buried in Shego's coat. Shego tried again: "Look, will you just stay at my place? Everything is so fast, and I just need you. So?"

Kim's response was to bury herself deeper into Shego.

Voice next to them: "You guys are a cute couple. But it's a chocolate shop. Could you please take it somewhere else?"

They moved on. "Hey, look. I really like that ski jacket."

"Shego, you could buy out the whole store. Why the jacket thing?"

"What? Don't you ever see things you want and won't get?"

"Not any more. Check it out: a lingerie shop. Maybe I can replace my moose."

Kim smiled sweetly when the clerk approached, linked her arm in Shego's. "My girlfriend and I are looking for something really hot, for tonight." She turned to Shego. "How 'bout a bustier, hon? This white one is nice. Try it on?"

By the time they left the shop, Shego had almost stopped fuming.

"Someday, Possible. Two points for making good on threat, though."

"I did say I'd get even. Anyway: you're sexier without that. Did I just say that? I can't believe what I just said. I think you've permanently messed my mind."

"I dunno; I like your mind. Uh . . ." Shego hesitated. After the kisses, the things she'd told Kim, she didn't know how she could be afraid. "OK. One more place to show you. It's in old Chinatown, though."

"Sounds fun. I like ethnic neighborhoods."

"It's kind of a seedy area of town. Old parts of cities get that way. Just warning you."

So it was. Glamorous international Vancouver faded gradually, as they walked to the true international foundations, a ghetto. It was called Chinatown, but it was a ghetto, to segregate the men and women who had built the city. They passed a halfway house; a storefront, glass papered over, announcing a needle exchange program. Kim observed that none of the kids sitting on doorsteps looked Chinese. One old man passed them, said quietly "You pieces of dog shit."

And then the city changed again, to a classic Chinatown. Bank building in red and gold; herb shops. Two places looking like doctors offices, but offering acupuncture. A 'Golden City Jewelry' where Shego stopped, opened the door for her.

A Chinese man in his early fifties came out from behind a counter, walked up. "Miss Go! It's good to see you again. Please, come into my office. I'm sorry there's nothing on the emerald market. The situation in Burma is not helping international trade. The legal trade."

As they entered his office, the gentleman looked at Kim. "My apologies. My name is Huang. Miss Go already knows we do not support the illegal trade in gemstones. Or in blood diamonds. Please sit down. Would you have some tea? No? Well, then, Miss Go: how can I help you today?"

"You recall that piece of jade? From . . . back then?"

"Yes, of course. In fact, we finished the design two, three months back. I'll bring it from the vault."

When Mr. Huang had gone, Shego turned to Kim. "The Huang family has had this place – the same store – for five generations. We met working on a smuggling case. Got 'em, too. He asked me what I wanted as payment. You'll see."

For Kim, things were actually becoming stranger. Fantasy Vancouver; fantasy Shego: she was seeing depths, in both, she hadn't expected. For Shego, she was feeling . . . more, as she got to know her better. But also excluded: Shego had a life, one she knew nothing about.

Mr. Huang returned, holding a substantial rosewood case, which he placed in front of the two. "Please open it."

Shego opened the box, tilted it towards Kim. Inside, resting on a black silk cloth, was a round piece of carved jade, a little smaller than her fist. Shego said "Go on, pick it up."

The jade was multicolored, but the back was a delicate green-white. The craftsman – and Kim had a sudden understanding that Mr. Huang would know the best in the world – the craftsman had used the impurities, the varying colors, as part of a design. Two dragons, facing each other, circled the edge, and one had a skin with deep greens, the other with lavender. They held something in their mouths; it was a repeated symbol; she didn't recognize it.

"This is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Is it yours?"

Mr. Huang smiled. "Yes, the stone is remarkable, and very auspicious, to have so many of the different colors of jade. And no, it belongs to Miss Go; she allows me to keep it, to show to favored guests. Miss Go?"

Miss Go was having difficulties; Kim was getting good at spotting it. "Ah. Aha. See . . . it's for you, Kim. From one stone dragon to another."

"I. Wow. Uh . . ." Kim hoped Shego-ness wasn't rubbing off on her, but this was a tough one to handle. What do you say when you've just been given a priceless piece of jewelry?

"Mr. Huang: the dragons are holding a repeated ideogram I don't recognize. What is it?"

"Ah. I'd assumed . . . it's the shuang xi, your 'double happiness.' Very appropriate for the New Year, of course. Unless…" Mr. Huang took off his bifocals, looked at Kim: "Are you perhaps planning a wedding?"

Before Kim could even breathe, Shego said "Yes."

**The End**


End file.
